


Velvet Over Steel

by irisadler



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: BAMF Isabelle Lightwood, Background Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, F/F, Immortal Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14772986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisadler/pseuds/irisadler
Summary: Even after retirement, Isabelle still contributes to the Institute by helping train the next generation. Sometimes, they give her attitude.





	Velvet Over Steel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stupidnephilimlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stupidnephilimlove/gifts).



> Beta’d by the incredible [la_muerta](http://la-muerta.tumblr.com/), whose fabulous fics can be found [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/la_muerta/pseuds/la_muerta).
> 
> For the absolutely wonderful [stupidnephilimlove](https://stupidnephilimlove.tumblr.com/) \- whom I adore - on the occasion of her birthday this week. You’re the reason I’m writing fanfic and making fantastic friends all over the world, so thanks for saying hi all those months ago, lovely! You’re a legend, and you deserve to be celebrated!
> 
> We, your parabatri, salute you :)

Isabelle grabs a long wooden staff from the rack in the sparring room and puts two fingers in her mouth, whistling loudly to signal her class to gather. The teenagers are her favourite class in some ways. Their rebellion and attitude and defiance remind her of herself at their age - or yesterday, Alec would probably say - and she enjoys bringing them down a peg or two. And to be honest, since retiring as Weapons Master, the training classes have become the highlight of her week.

Isabelle taps her staff on the floor impatiently, waiting for the last few stragglers. She notices that Chris’ shirt is rumpled, and she thinks she sees the sign of a hickey peeking out of the collar of his shirt. She grins.

“All right, class,” she says. “Today, we’re working on unarmed defense manoeuvres.”

Chris speaks up (because of course he does). “Instructor Lightwood-Roberts?”

“Yes, Chris?”

“Why do you have a staff then?”

Isabelle prays for patience. “So I can point out your errors and correct them.”

“So it’s not because you’re no match for us without it?”

Isabelle grins, wide and wolfish. “Why? You think you can take me?”

Chris hesitates, then sees one of the girls in the group watching him with a kind of admiration in her eyes and stands up straighter. “Yeah, sure,” he boasts, puffing up his chest and holding himself with a kind of macho posturing that instantly takes Isabelle back. How Chris reminds her of his grandfather...

The years (and Clary’s influence) have mellowed Jace. Making plenty of errors and dealing with the consequences has taught him a little wisdom and given him some gravitas. His daughter Jocelyn is sweet as can be. His grandson, though… Isabelle sees his grandfather in him, the Jace of many years ago, despite the fairer cast of his skin, the strawberry blonde tint of the hair he’s so vain about. She sees Jace as he once was - arrogant, brash, overconfident, foolish. Knowing Jace now gives her hope for the boy, but that won’t prevent her from teaching him a lesson.

“Bring it on,” she says, her voice dangerous. She tosses the staff to Rafael’s son Jaime, who grins and gives her a thumbs up. She smiles and winks at him, resisting the urge to ruffle his hair. He’s getting too old for that already, somehow. They grow up so _fast_ …

Isabelle yanks the elastic from her wrist and ties back her long hair, now gunmetal streaked with black but still as bountiful and luxurious as ever, one of her few vanities.

The class forms a circle, creating a combat ring. Chris swaggers into the center and Isabelle joins him there. She drops easily into position, half-crouched and ready to spring, steady as a rock on her four-inch heels. Chris follows suit, and they square off.

“Go,” Isabelle says.

Chris moves to his left, so she moves right, but she has no patience to circle him and wait for an opening. She’s Isabelle Lightwood-Roberts, dammit. She _makes_ openings.

So, quick as a thought, she moves, sweeping Chris’ feet out from under him. He hits the floor with a heavy thud, and Isabelle’s elbow is on his throat before he even realises what's happened. He tries to move, tries to push back, but she leans into it, putting just enough pressure on his windpipe that it’s clear that she holds all the power.

Isabelle stares into Chris’ eyes until she sees what she’s waiting for: fear and humility and a dawning respect.

"Imagine what I could do to you with a sword," she hisses with a wild, wicked grin. She holds him there a moment longer, then lets him up.

The rest of the class goes smoothly. All the students are well-behaved and attentive, which makes Isabelle laugh to herself. It’s always like this after she reminds them who she is. Doesn’t last long, though. Despite their age, they still have the incorrigibility of children.

Once the class is over, Isabelle goes over to her bag in the corner to grab a drink and a towel. Training is more of an effort than it used to be, but she’s proud as hell that she hasn’t slowed down at all in her later years. Or lowered the height of her heels.

“I love watching you work.”

Isabelle turns in surprise, smiling at her wife.

“Maia! What are you doing here?”

Maia leans in for a quick kiss.

“Oh, you know,” she says with a shrug. “Just thought I’d come take my beautiful wife out to lunch.”

Isabelle smiles. “And what if _I_ want to take my beautiful wife out to dinner?”

Maia grins, her eyes crinkling at the corners, and Isabelle has to take a second to admire how lovely she is, each wrinkle and laugh line conjuring up a memory, backlighting turning her pure silver afro into a halo. “I’m sure something can be arranged.” Her face turns serious then, and Isabelle steels herself for something unpleasant.

“Izzy, I thought we agreed there wouldn’t be any more showing off with the kids.”

  
Isabelle sighs. “But it’s so much _fun_ ,” she says with a pout. “And it’s so _easy_ …”

Maia laughs heartily, and as long as she lives, Isabelle will never get enough of hearing that sound.

“I see this is not going to be a productive discussion,” Maia says, still chuckling. “How about… can you agree to be careful? And not to _pick_ fights, at least?”

Isabelle sighs heavily, thinks for a moment, then flashes Maia a bright smile. “Okay. _That_ I can do.”

Maia pulls Isabelle in for a hug, wrinkling her nose at how sweaty Isabelle is. Isabelle laughs and holds Maia tight, leaning in for a kiss. Maia kisses her back, like she always does - one of the many things Isabelle loves about her - then playfully swats at her arm.

“No fair! You’re using my weakness for your kisses as an excuse to get me all gross and sweaty!”

Isabelle laughs. “Well, can I help it if you’re weak for my kisses? Besides,” she says, dropping her voice and moving closer like she’s about to confide a secret, “I’m weak for you, too…”

Maia beams, broad and genuine, and even after all these years, Isabelle can’t help responding to it. She kisses Maia again, soft and sweet and lingering.

When she pulls away, she sees Alec heading towards them. She waves, pleased to see him, even if the sight of him - with his unlined face and dark hair - is one of the few things that makes her feel her age. Alec walks up to them, kisses Maia on the cheek, and pulls Isabelle into a hug. She hugs him back with a sigh of contentment. Some things haven’t changed. Alec still gives the best hugs.

She pulls away after a minute. “So, what brings you in here?”

“Oh,” Alec says, looking down at her with a twinkle in his eye, “I was just passing earlier, and I saw the most fascinating display…”

Isabelle flushes a little. “Well, you know-” she starts, but Alec cuts her off.

“Next time?” he says, and Isabelle braces herself for a reprimand. “Don’t go so easy on him.”

Isabelle laughs in surprise. “Really?”

“Really,” Alec replies with a grin. “He could stand to learn some humility. Plus… I know you get a kick out of it.”

Isabelle shrugs, unable to deny it.

Maia steps forward and extends her hand. “I’d like to petition the Head of the Institute for an extended lunch break? This lovely lady has a date to get to.”

Isabelle looks at Maia fondly, taking her hand. They turn to Alec, who laughs. “Maia, you know full well Izzy does whatever the hell she wants.”

Maia lets out a highly undignified snort. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. Isabelle smacks her lightly on the shoulder, and Maia flashes her a warning glance.

“I doubt you can take me down as easily as Chris,” she says.

“Oh really?” Isabelle grins, full of challenge and daring. “Wanna bet?”

They stare into each other’s eyes for a moment, until a quiet laugh from Alec breaks the moment.

“You two…” he mutters, shaking his head. “Go enjoy your lunch.”

Isabelle smiles at Maia. “I guess we could always spar later.”

Maia grins. “Sounds like a plan.” She turns to Alec. “You want to join us?”

Alec’s smile is blinding, and Isabelle knows what’s coming. “I’d love to, but Magnus will be over with lunch in a few minutes.”

Isabelle nods knowingly. “Yeah, big brother, I know _all_ about your midday ‘meetings’ with Magnus.”

Alec flushes a little but grins. “Hey, I’m off the clock!”

Maia bursts out laughing.

Alec gives her an unapologetic look full of mischief. “Speaking of,” he says, checking his watch, “I’d better hurry if I don’t want to be late.”

He smiles his goodbye and heads toward his office. Maia and Isabelle wave and watch him go for a moment. Then Maia squeezes Isabelle’s hand.

“So, babe. Lunch?”

Isabelle smiles. “Sounds perfect.”

As they head for the door, Maia slips her arm through Isabelle’s. Isabelle catches sight of their reflection as they pass one of the many screens in the operating center. They look so different now from when they first met. So much has happened in the intervening years. And yet, the important things are the same: the smiles on their faces, the way they lean on each other, and the fact that they are stronger together.

And as they step out into the bright summer sun, with Maia’s arm in hers, Isabelle knows what it feels like to be invincible.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a video I saw about a 72 year old grandmother in south India who practices and teaches a traditional form of martial arts. The [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cUv56BoxTTM) is titled Sword Fighting Granny Kicks Ass, which is honestly all you need to know...


End file.
